


I Can Feel You Most When I'm Alone

by beekayem



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Pack - Freeform, Amnesia, Angst, F/M, Happy Ending, Love, M/M, Magic!Stiles, Mates, Multi, Pack Feels, Porn in Later Chapters, Temporary Character Death, undead!Stiles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-08
Updated: 2013-02-07
Packaged: 2017-11-28 14:17:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/675326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beekayem/pseuds/beekayem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>The Alpha pack had come. Had fought. Had conquered.</em>
</p>
<p>'At 3pm Thursday, the day after he'd buried his only remaining family. John Stilinski packed the last of his bags into the Jeep he'd gifted his son with on his fifteenth birthday and left Beacon Hills behind without looking back. It was time to find the rest of the pack. The people who promised to take him in, to take care of him. Each of them had lost something in that town, it was only fitting that they each move on together.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Can Feel You Most When I'm Alone

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first 'real' Teen Wolf fanfiction. It is as such un-beta'd and I apologise in advance for any big mistakes or any other errors. Please don't judge too harshly D:
> 
> Anyways yes. I think the tags say it all. I'll add more and fix things as I get through more of the story, but I'm fairly certain everything here is okay at the moment. 
> 
> Enjoy :D

The Alpha pack had come. Had fought. Had conquered. Broken bodies of the new Hale pack lay discarded against the forest floor outside the old house where everything had started. With a warning and a date to leave town (three days from then) – the Alpha pack had gathered themselves and strutted away from them, backs turned and uncaring because they knew they'd won. That in itself was painful for Derek to watch as he slowly dragged himself to his knees before surveying the damage. 

As far as he could tell the other's were alright. Each of them painfully shifting toward each other to offer help. Before long they were all spread out over the front porch of the Hale house and waiting for somebody (Derek) to tell them what to do next. He didn't though, and the silence was deafening as they knit their injuries back together. Nobody would look at anybody else in the eye. Nobody could bring themselves to acknowledge exactly what had happened just moments earlier. 

They had lost.

They had lost and it had been because of the most stupid reason. When the Alphas had issued their time and place for the 'Final Battle', Derek had reluctantly headed to Scott and asked for his help. It was a necessity of war, to ally himself with the one other pack in Beacon Hills when he himself was already down two pack members. With Scott's unenthusiastic agreement of the arrangement Derek found himself gaining the beta-wolf, the last two hunters of the Argent clan, a Sheriff and a hyperactive human teenager with no known helpful abilities. When he'd headed over to the Whittemore house to find Jackson, all he'd been met with was an empty building and a friendly neighbour explaining the family's move to New York. 

Lydia had straight up refused to get involved. (He couldn't bring himself to be angry at her. She was entitled to her safety and if he were being completely honest...he'd probably do the same thing if he could.)

It had been Stiles who'd brought it up when they had all been uncomfortably seated around the Stilinski's living room. Until then the meeting had been a mixture of shouting, threatening and glaring from nearly everyone before the teen had spoken, _'Why are we bothering?'_ Silence had fallen as everyone's attention was drawn to him. Derek looked verging on apoplectic as he spat out a reply from between gritted teeth, _'What.'_ Stiles had merely shrugged as he stood up and looked the Alpha straight in the eye, _'If we can't even work together on a plan in my living room, how are we going to work together in an actual fight?'_ and with that he'd calmly wandered up the staircase and out of sight.

Nobody had taken it to heart. The Sheriff had followed after his son and not ten minutes later everyone else was gone. No steps closer to forming the cohesive unit required to win the battle. 

It really was no surprise that they had lost. Derek and Scott running in guns-a-blazin' ready to tear into their opponents – Isaac and Peter following behind. The Argent's and Stilinski's had taken to the forest, edging closer and closer with their targets locked and their weapons loaded. Naturally this had been the point where everything had gone to shit. With no known plan to follow everyone was stuck trying to do their own thing. 

Their asses had been handed to them only fifteen minutes later after what had felt like a lifetime of carnage. 

Now they sat hunched over and in pain on the front porch with the knowledge that _none of them_ were safe. That they were no longer welcome in this town they'd once called home. 

Twenty minutes passed and Derek was ready to talk – opened his mouth before being cut off.

'Where's Stiles?' 

Sheriff John Stilinski had finally regained consciousness and was peering blearily at the figures surrounding him. Eyes dazed as he fought against the hands of Chris trying to hold him down, John frantically searched the pale faces for the one that mattered most to him, 'Where is he? Where's Stiles?'

The answer to the question was that nobody knew. Nobody had noticed the boy go missing during the fight, nobody could think of where he might be. And as John grew more and more agitated with worry, his words growing louder and more desperate – the scent of blood reached Derek's nostrils. The one scent he'd always been capable of picking out from a crowd for reasons he could never begin to understand was stronger, sweeter and more metallic. He could almost taste it as he rose to his feet.

Following the smell Derek was dimly aware of the speed his heart was racing in his chest. Pounding against his ribcage relentlessly, so hard it physically hurt. Back on the porch he could hear the other's calling for him, asking him what he thought he was doing. He was only 40 feet from the house when his knees gave out beneath his weight and the breath was whisked from his lungs in a harsh gasp. 

Derek had found him. Had found Stiles...even though he now wished he hadn't. Something deep within him ached at the sight of the mangled body of the boy who lay before him, and before he could contain it, the gutteral howl that had been building inside his chest was unleashed into the night air. One. Two. Three howls answered his own and he knew they were on their way. Removing his shredded jacket, Derek covered Stiles' torso with it to hide the damage from view and reached up to carefully close the teenager's dully unseeing eyes. 

Only when the choked sobbing of Scott alerted him to the presence of others did Derek dare to lift his gaze from the serene expression adorning Stiles' features. It hurt. God it hurt so fucking bad. Worse though was the way he couldn't escape the sense that something had died within him. That somewhere in the makeup of his body, mind and soul – a light had flickered out and left him stranded in darkness. 

Watching as Scott lifted the body of his best friend, Derek and Isaac flanked him as he carried Stiles back to his father. 

.::.

Stiles was buried beside his mother the next Wednesday. None of them with the exception of the Sheriff had been able to attend. Allison and Chris had fled town the day after the battle. Derek, Isaac and Peter had left on the third day with Scott and his mother, but John had remained to see out the funeral preparations. It looked suspicious enough with three different families leaving town in the same week. John would stay behind to make sure everything was sorted before taking Derek up on his invitation to live with him and the pack.

He'd tried the alone thing after his wife had passed away. The only reason he'd survived was because of his son. Being along just didn't seem like a good idea right then, because no matter how desperately he wanted to die in that moment – he knew exactly how his wife and son would take it if he appeared up there with them anytime soon. 

At 3pm Thursday, the day after he'd buried his only remaining family. John Stilinski packed the last of his bags into the Jeep he'd gifted his son with on his fifteenth birthday and left Beacon Hills behind without looking back. It was time to find the rest of the pack. The people who promised to take him in, to take care of him. Each of them had lost something in that town, it was only fitting that they each move on together.

.::.

_It was dark. Darker than dark, and when he tried to move he found himself stuck. Slowly he lifted his hands to trace the walls of his cage. They were smooth and cold and entirely too close for comfort. As the panic began to rise in his chest and his movements grew jerkier and more frantic, he realised exactly where he was._

_Attempting to recall what he'd read on the internet about what to do when in this situation, he awkwardly removed the coat he was wearing and pulled it up to cover his face before securing it behind his head with the arms. Body moving on impulse, he slowly went through the step-by-step tutorial he'd read when he was fourteen._

_After what felt like an eternity of kicking, his feet broke through the wood. The dirt came pouring in soon after and he pushed it down towards his legs and to his sides. Concentrating on keeping his breathing calm, he shifted into a sitting position it was only a matter of time before he was standing and breaking through the soil above him._

_Dirt stained fingers gripped at the grass above his head as he dragged himself up and out of the hole he'd dug. Scrambling to lift his knees out and onto the grass, he nearly cried with relief when a hand grasped his own and pulled him up and out before letting him drop to the ground. Tearing the shirt from his head he sobbed into the grass, his heart beating rapidly in his chest from sheer relief._

_Lifting his gaze to his helper, he recoiled at the glowing red eyes staring back._

_'Don't panic Little Red. I'm going to help you.'_

_Racking his brains for any memory of the figure in front of him, he nodded slowly. The man smiled with a mouthful of shiny white teeth as though he were pleased with the acceptance. Offering his hand once more, he hauled the boy to his feet and held on to him as his legs finally gave out._

_'You can call me Deucalion.'_


End file.
